


The Boy I Love Is Up In The Gallery

by Rachel_Sophie95



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dorian Gray Fusion, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Victorian, F/M, Inspired by Moulin Rouge!, Lust, Obsession, Overprotective, Period-Typical Sexism, Pining, Possessive Behavior, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Song Lyrics, Songfic, Zuko (Avatar)-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:41:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27704995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rachel_Sophie95/pseuds/Rachel_Sophie95
Summary: Zuko Sozin, The Duke of Caldera, visits his favorite music hall and becomes infatuated with a new singer.
Relationships: Azula & Ursa & Zuko (Avatar), Azula & Ursa (Avatar), Azula & Zuko (Avatar), Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), Katara & Sokka (Avatar), Katara/Zuko (Avatar), Ursa & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 48





	1. The Painted Lady

"The usual box is ready for you, Your Grace," the usher said. He bowed his head and opened the box's door for Zuko.  
Zuko smiled. Being Zuko Sozin, the Duke of Caldera, had its perks. The usher took his top hat, overcoat, and walking stick and hung them up for him.  
"What's on the billing for this evening?" Zuko said. "Not Love Amongst the Dragons again?"  
Love Amongst the Dragons was a perennial favorite that the Ember Island Music Hall always fell back on whenever another show flopped. The Ember Island Players usually butchered it. Their skills were better suited to bawdy slap-stick rather than melodramatic romance.  
The usher gave him a handbill. "No, Your Grace. This evening, we're having a musical review."  
Zuko took the handbill. Top billing was given to a singer known as The Painted Lady. "The Painted Lady?"  
"Tonight's her debut, but I hear she's sensational."  
Zuko raised an eyebrow. "I'll have to see for myself." Or rather hear for myself.  
She was probably just another pretty face with a passable voice, like most girls at Ember Island. Audiences at such places wanted something nice to look at more than they wanted something nice to listen to.  
"Thank you." Zuko tossed a shilling to the usher.  
The orchestra began to play, and Zuko took a seat in his box. He sat through a half-hour of low-brow comic sketches and shrill, brassy renditions of music hall staples before The Painted Lady came on stage.  
A dainty young woman stood in the limelight with her hands folded as prim as a schoolgirl. The décolleté neckline and tight bodice of her maroon evening dress showed off her shapely curves. She'd chosen that dress well. White greasepaint covered her face and exposed neck and arms. Red markings adorned her forehead, cheeks, and shoulders, making her look like a Japanese kabuki performer.  
So that's why she's called The Painted Lady.  
The most intriguing part of her costume was a wide-brimmed straw hat with a gauzy veil, which didn't obscure her beauty but rather shrouded it in a tantalizing air of mystery. It dared you to lift it and savor the delights underneath. You may now kiss the bride.  
Cheers and hoots erupted from the audience. They're all drooling like dogs over a tasty piece of meat.  
The auditorium fell silent when Painted Lady opened her mouth to sing. "I'm a young girl that's just come over, over from the country where they do things big."  
She had a soprano voice, as sweet and clear as a bird's—the voice of a goddammed nightingale.  
"And amongst the boys, I've got a lover." The Painted Lady rocked side to side and fluttered her skirt, giving scandalous glimpses of her dainty ankles. "And since I've got a lover, why I don't care a fig."  
She gestured upwards in the direction of Zuko's box. Zuko leaned forward in his seat.  
An enchanting smile crossed The Painted Lady's face. "The boy I love is up in the gallery. The boy I love is looking now at me." She looked up at him through dark, feathery lashes. Her large, blue eyes sparkled with innocence and passion. "There he is, can't you see, waving his handkerchief, as merry as a robin that sits on a tree."  
Zuko's blood stirred and his pulse went mad as the Painted Lady continued to prance and flutter her skirt.  
"The boy I love, they call him a cobbler," She sang. "But he's not a cobbler, allow me to state."  
He crossed his arms and looked down at her. His mouth curled into a predatory grin. You'd be wasted on a mere cobbler, sweetheart.  
"For Johnny is a tradesman and he works in the Boro', where they sole and heel them whilst you wait."  
Zuko kept an eagle eye out for the glint of a wedding ring on the Painted Lady's hands. He didn't see one. No other kinds of jewelry either, to mark her out as another man's property. Good. There wouldn't be any husband or lovers to make things difficult.  
As if she were embracing the audience, The Painted Lady opened her arms and beckoned them to sing along:  
"The boy I love is up in the gallery.  
The boy I love is looking now at me.  
There he is, can't you see,  
Waving his handkerchief,  
As merry as a robin, that sits on a tree."  
Zuko couldn't help but think about having her in his rooms, singing for him and him alone. O...yes...Your Grace. It took all of his willpower not to lick his lip and salivate.  
"If I were a duchess, and I had a lot of money." The Painted Lady gave the audience a cheeky grin which elicited a hearty cheer. "I'd give it to the boy who's going to marry me."  
Zuko responded with a cheeky grin of his own. I'm tempted to steal you away right now and make you a duchess.  
She wrapped her arms around her chest and her expression changed to a soulful pout. "But I haven't got a penny, so we'll live on love and kisses and be just as happy as the birds on the tree."  
Knowing the lyrics to the song's chorus, Zuko removed a handkerchief from his breast pocket and waved it at The Painted Lady at the appropriate moment. The Painted Lady caught on to what he was doing and blushed. Her eyes lowered and her lips parted as she dipped a curtsy to the audience as they cheered, hooted, and whistled.  
Keep on whistling; she's mine.  
Once his prey made a retreat off stage, Zuko left his box.  
"Did you enjoy the show, Your Grace?" The usher asked.  
Zuko gave the usher a sixpence. "The girl, The Painted Lady, send a bouquet of fire lilies to her dressing room as quickly as possible, along with this." Along with the sixpence, he handed the usher his card. "Ask if she'll receive The Duke of Caldera."  
It was the standard practice for actresses, singers, and dancers to receive gentlemen callers in their dressing rooms after their shows.  
The usher stared down at his shoes. "There might be a problem."  
"What problem?"  
"Her brother. He doesn't let gentlemen come to her dressing room."  
"If the lady wishes to have visitors, who is he to stop her?" Zuko took out his wallet. "Now, how much do you think we'll need to get past brother dear?"  
"A lot."


	2. Ginger Tea with Cinnamon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokka and Gran-Gran discuss Katara's new admirer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note about character ages. Katara is seventeen in this and Zuko is in his early twenties. This is a big yikes by our standards but considering in this time period a teenaged girl like Katara could have been forced to be with some gross dude old enough to be her father or grandfather, she'd probably be relieved that her suitor is a hot dude in his twenties.

"I don't know what you're so worked up about," Gran-Gran said from the other side of the kitchen door. "From what I heard, His Grace was a perfect gentleman when he visited Katara in her dressing room."   
Sokka's eyes were probably bugging out of his skull as he latched onto a dining chair and shook it in frustration. "Do you know why a toff like him would visit a girl in her dressing room? Because he wants to make her his mistress."   
"Thank you, Christopher Columbus, for that world-changing discovery."   
Katara's friends at Ember Island told her that she was the luckiest girl in all of London to have an admirer like the Duke of Caldera, and on her first night at that. They all gave her advice on how she should proceed. Suki, the head chorus girl, warned her that gentlemen like His Grace had their fun with girls like Katara before settling down and marrying someone more appropriate to their station, so she shouldn't invest all her hopes of happiness in him. Ty Lee, the contortionist, said that a girl should have two lovers: one for-profit and one for pleasure.   
"That's what Suki does," Ty Lee had giggled, causing Suki to smack her with one of the oriental fans she used in her dance.   
Suki was ostentatiously the mistress of a wealthy industrialist, but everyone knew she often snuck off for tumbles backstage with Sokka, the old hypocrite.   
Sokka's heavy boots stomped across the kitchen. Katara felt him lean against the door. He huffed. "His type don't marry girls like Katara. He'll toss her out when he's through with her."   
Sokka stumbled a bit as Gran-Gran slapped him on the shoulder. "But he'll be good to her until then," she said. "He'll shower her with expensive gifts: jewelry, furs, racehorses... if she plays her cards right, she'll be able to live comfortably for the rest of her life."   
"Is comfort worth selling herself?"   
"Listen, the biggest mistake your mother made was marrying my son. I love your father, I do, but your mother threw herself away by taking up with a poor sailor like him."   
Even before Mum's death, Dad was never around for more than a few months at a time before he shipped out again. Katara always looked forward to his visits. He'd bring back presents and stories from the places he'd gone, and for a brief shining moment, money wouldn't be much of a problem. Then he'd have to leave again. When Mum died, she hoped that he'd be around more, but London seemed to him to be filled with too many bad memories.   
Sokka jumped in to defend Dad. "Mum had a good man who loved her."   
"All that ever get a woman except for a life dullness and drudgery and too many children to support. Katara won't be as young and beautiful as she is forever. She should make the most of it while she can."   
"Katara is seventeen. Surely, she still has some time before she has to worry out being old and washed up."   
Katara knew when she decided to go on the stage that gentlemen would pay court to her, but she feared that they would be old and repulsive with only their wealth to recommend them. But this reality never really hit her until she found His Grace's card and the bouquet of fire lilies in her dressing room. Her head spun as if she'd drank too much gin when the stage manager presented them to each other. All she could do was stare and blink like a startled deer, pull her wrapper closer to her chest, and wonder what she ever did to deserve this good fortune.   
His Grace was young, about Sokka's age- early twenties at the most- and perhaps the most handsome man she'd ever seen. His smooth, pale, oval face, sleek, black hair, and dignified composure reminded her of a portrait Dad had shown her of a young Japanese daimyo. The only physical flaw he possessed was a scar from a gunshot wound over one of his eyes, but this only made him all the more dashing and intriguing. Rumor had it that disfigurement was the result of a duel he'd fought during his Oxford days.   
The other girls at Ember Island whispered that his family was more affluent than royalty. Like Gran-Gran, Katara knew that this was a calculated business proposition, but all the glamour, excitement, and, she dared to hope, romance it offered left her giddy and light-headed. Most girls dream of being swept off her feet by a handsome prince. A handsome duke would do quite well, thank you.   
Katara's flights of fancy were interrupted by a tickling sensation in the back of her throat. Her coughing alerted Sokka and Gran-Gran to her presence. Sokka pushed open the door, hitting Katara on the bustle.   
Katara shrieked. "Excuse me." The recoil on her bustle caused her to spring forward.   
"That'll teach you to listen at the door," Sokka laughed.   
"And this will teach you to startle me like that." She boxed his shoulder. "And to talk about me behind my back."   
"Ow." Sokka rubbed his bruised bicep.   
"Sokka, stop bothering your sister." Gran-Gran bustled into the parlor from the kitchen.   
"You always take her side."   
Katara settled herself on the sofa, spread out her skirts, and smirked. "Because I'm always in the right." The tickle in her throat returned, and she started to cough again.   
"Are you alright, my little dewdrop?" Gran-Gran sat down on the sofa next to her.   
"I'm fine, just a little hoarse, that's all." Her throat often felt sore after she'd done a lot of singing.   
"Then why don't you get ready for bed, and I'll make you some ginger tea with honey and lemon. I'll even put some cinnamon in it, just the way you like it."   
"Thank you, Gran-Gran."   
"We're all very proud of how well you did tonight, right Sokka?"   
"Right," Sokka replied, rolling his eyes.   
Katara rose to her feet and kissed him on the cheek. "Don't worry about me, Sokka. I know what I'm doing."   
As Katara got ready for bed, she hoped to see His Grace again at the theater. She fell asleep and dreamt about her handsome duke. If he were to ask her to be his mistress, she decided, she would say yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a historical clothing nerd, I enjoyed adding little details like Katara's bustle. I picture this story taking place in the mid to late 1880s, the height of the second bustle era, and bustles have a lot of slapstick potential.


	3. The Jasmine Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That awkward moment when you're on a date, and you run into your ex and your nosy uncle. Cute and romantic Zutara fluff ft. turtle-ducks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record: the correct usage of Mai in a Zutara fanfic is as the snarky ex you're still on fairly good terms with who roasts you for still making the same dumb decisions you made with them. We all know that Mai's reaction to Zuko having a new girlfriend would be something like "don't f*** things up this time."

Zuko had told Uncle he'd take tea at the Jasmine Dragon with a lady friend that afternoon. That was the polite thing to do. Uncle would put in an appearance anyway whether or not he had an invitation. After all, it was Uncle's tea shop, and if his nephew brought women there to woo them, then Uncle had every right to know about it. Zuko thought the world of Uncle, but the old man was incapable of minding his own business.   
The Jasmine Dragon was one of the finest tea shops in London and the love of Uncle's life. The love for which he'd abdicated a dukedom to his younger brother, then later his nephew. Anyone who'd tasted the delectable imported brews and fresh-baked treats sold there would say that Uncle made the right choice by giving up his coronet to sell tea. Conveniently located near St. James's Park, the upstairs parlor provided breath-taking views of St. James's famous willow trees and turtle-duck pond. Today's weather (clear skies with a balmy breeze) was glorious. Katara might like a stroll through the park and a jaunt to Turtle-Duck Island after they had tea. 

Zuko saw Katara twice in the month since they'd met. Both times, he saw her perform at Ember Island then visited her in her dressing room, under her blasted brother's supervision, of course. Zuko was always a perfect gentleman, only ever exchanging the most innocent pleasantries with Katara and never touching her, except to kiss her hand. Still, the brother, Sokka was his name, didn't stop glaring at him. Sokka seemed dangerously close to asking the dreaded "what are your intentions towards my sister?" and Zuko would try his damnedest to avoid having to answer this question for as long as he could. 

The grandfather clock with the golden dragon on top chimed four times. Zuko scanned the room. Katara would be arriving at any moment. 

A pale, willowy girl dressed in an impeccably smart burgundy silk frock stopped in front of him. She lifted her hat's veil to reveal a thin, heart-shaped face with striking angular features that were handsome rather than pretty and a fringe of sleek, black hair. Her expression was cold and unreadable. Only a slight flick of her eyes upwards indicated that she'd noticed Zuko was there. 

Zuko rose from his seat to give her a slight bow. _Bloody Hell._

"Zuko," she said. 

He put his hands in his pockets. "How are you, Mai?" 

"Fine." Mai raised an eyebrow. "And you?" "Fine." "Are you here to see your uncle?" 

"Actually, I'm meeting someone." 

"Who is she this time? Anyone, I know?" 

Zuko stared down at his shoes. _Damn, that hit below the belt?_ "No, I don't think so." He took a deep breath and composed himself. "Did you come here with Kei Lo?" 

"No, my mother." 

Zuko knew that he was bloody lucky that Mai was too well-bred and self-composed to make a public scene. 

"Excuse me." Katara entered the room, looking as sweet as a porcelain shepherdess in a simple blue gown and a little straw hat, laden with flowers, and approached the maitre d'hotel. "Has the Duke of Caldera arrived yet?"   
"His Grace is sitting over there, Miss," the maitre d'hotel replied, pointing in Zuko's direction.   
"Is that her?" Mai said with a slight smirk.   
Zuko's cheeks burned. "yes."   
"She's pretty." She patted Zuko on the shoulders. "Try not to mess things up with her." 

_Like I did with you?_

Katara's blue bustle swayed in as Mai's red bustle swayed out.   
"Your Grace," Katara said, greeting Zuko with a curtsy and a radiant smile.   
Zuko took her hand and kissed it. "Glad you could make it."   
He pulled her chair forward so she could sit down.   
"Who were you talking to?"   
"The Honorable Mai Ukano." He took his seat across from her. "The daughter of Baron Omashu, an old friend of mine and..."   
"And...?"   
Apparently, Zuko's humiliation wasn't over for today? "The woman I was... sort of engaged to." _  
_

"Sort of engaged?" She raised her eyebrow in a manner that was too much like Mai for Zuko's comfort.   
"It's a long story."   
"We've got nowhere else to be." 

Where was Uncle? At this point, Zuko would be happy to have the old man barge in on them. That way, he wouldn't have to continue with this bloody conversation. No Uncle to be seen. Very well, he'd have to be a man and answer the lady's question. The more he tried to avoid it, the more curious she'd become.   
"Our families go back all the way back to the Norman Conquest," Zuko said. "Or the Great Flood, I'm not sure which. Mai and I grew up together, and it was always understood that we would marry someday. I was fond of Mai, maybe even loved her, but I took what we had for granted." 

Katara raised that damned eyebrow again. "What did you do?" 

Zuko stared down at his empty teacup, wishing someone would come and fill it.   
  
"I made the mistake men always do. I thought that if I sewed my wild oats for a little while, then I'd be ready to settle down." _You love your secrets more than you ever loved me,_ was Mai's exact words when they'd parted ways. "That little while turned into a long time. Mai got tired of waiting, and she got engaged to someone else." 

Great. Now Katara probably thought he was a scoundrel. Unsure of what else to do, Katara flipped through the menu. "I'm sorry," she said. 

"Don't be. Us calling things off was the right decision. Mai's fiance Kei Lo is a decent chap and crazy about her, and he's got more money than anyone can spend in a lifetime, even someone with Mai's tastes." 

"Nephew." Zuko's salvation came in the portly form of Uncle pushing a tea cart towards their table. "I had something special prepared for you and your lady friend." Uncle gave Katara a quick lookover. "You didn't tell me she was this lovely."   
Katara blushed prettily and gave the old man a smile.   
Zuko's cheeks burned again. "Good afternoon, Uncle," he said. 

"His Grace told me a lot about you, Mr. Sozin," Katara said. "For starters, that you brew the best tea in all of London."   
Uncle picked up the teapot and filled Katara's cup. "Why don't you see for yourself, My Dear? And call me Uncle, everyone else around here does." 

The steam wafting from the tea smelt sweet and a little perfumy. Zuko couldn't tell if the aroma was fruity or floral. 

"What kind of tea is this?" Katara asked. 

"It's a special brew." Uncle gave her one of his trademark serene, enigmatic smiles. "I call it  _ the sweetheart _ ." 

Katara lifted her teacup to her lips. 

Zuko raised an eyebrow. "Be careful. Uncle once tricked me into drinking a tea made from ginger and cayenne pepper. I was breathing fire for a good five minutes afterwards."   
Undettered, Katara took a sip. "Strawberry..." she said. "And hibiscus... with a hint of rose."   


"Impressive," Uncle replied. He clapped Zuko on the back. "Like I've always told you, Zuko, marry a woman who knows her tea." 

"Uncle!" 

He clapped Zuko on the back again. "I'll leave the two of you alone now." 

_ Finally!  _

Katara took a piece of bread out of the basket on the table and spread it with butter.   
Zuko also took a slice but stashed it away in his coat. "Put a piece of bread in your pocket," he said.   
"Why?"   
"You'll see later." He winked at her. 

Turtle-Duck Island featured an elaborate folly by way of a rustic cottage, tucked away in an overgrown flower garden. The cottage's terrace overlooked a secluded section of the pond where a family of turtle-ducks swam and quacked as if they hadn't a care in the world.   
From the terrace, Zuko and Katara sprinkled bits of bread leftover from their tea into the water for the turtle-ducks to gobble up. The greedy little beasts looked up at them when they ran out of bread as if to say, "Is that all?"   
Katara leaned against the banister. "How many other girls have you brought here?" she said.   
"Hundreds," Zuko replied. He bent over and plucked a daisy that grew along the edge of the pond. "Thousands."   
The truth was: Mai was the only other girl he'd shown Turtle-Duck Island to, but that had been years ago, back before he'd stopped trying to make Mai, a notoriously tough person to please, happy. If Turtle-Duck Island could make Mai smile, it could make anyone smile. 

"You must be courting dozens at least."

Zuko tucked the daisy behind her ear. "There's only you." He leaned in to kiss her. "Will you permit me?" 

Katara blushed. "I was wondering when you'd ask." 

Zuko's blood raced. Was this really happening? He put his hands on her waist to pull her close enough that he could hear the creaking of her corset as she breathed. Katara stood on the tips of her toes and softly brushed her lips against his, then allowed him to take it from there. Zuko kept things chaste and respectful since they were in public, but the kiss left him breathless when they broke away. 

"It's soft," Katara giggled. "And it tickles." 

Zuko caressed her cheek. "What are you talking about, you silly girl?" 

"The first boy I ever kissed had a mustache like yours." _Of Course. She kisses too well for this to be her first time._ "His name was Haru, and he was a friend of my brother. It was on my fourteenth birthday. Haru pulled me aside and said that I should learn how to kiss since I was now fourteen. Sokka would have killed him if he'd caught us. Anyway, Haru's mustache felt scratchy against my lips, and I wondered if yours would feel the same." 

Zuko grinned. She'd been fantasizing about how his mustache would feel if he kissed her. Agni, he was a lucky man. 

"So what happened between you and Haru?" He stood next to her against the banister.   
"Haru joined the army." She glanced down at the ripples in the pond, where a turtle-duck was dipping its head beneath the water. "And he was stationed in India. We made a promise that we would get engaged when he returned, but a cholera outbreak at the Poona Cantonment put an end to that promise."   
He took her hand and stroked her fingers with this tumb. "I'm sorry." 

"I grieved for Haru, and I still miss him, but I don't regret the way things have turned out." She looked up from the pond and into Zuko's eyes. "Who was your first kiss?"   
"Mai, the lady I was talking to back at the tea shop. We were both twelve and were playing in the garden with my sister, Azula. Azula always used to tease us about being sweet on each other and being engaged. That afternoon, she locked Mai and me into a shed and wouldn't let us out until we kissed." 

To Katara, he described the young lady who'd made his life Hell for the past seventeen years as "very pretty, very clever, and very used to getting her own way." Azula would be having her first season in London this year, and Zuko prayed that after a few more London seasons, she'd be another man's problem. 

Katara rested her head on his shoulder. "Do you regret how things turned out for you?" 

Zuko looked out across the pond at where the sun was setting over St. James's Park. _At this moment, not at all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a real Duck Island in London's St. James's Park, so I had to make it Turtle-Duck Island.


	4. Christmas With The Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very Zutara Christmas. Zuko opens to Katara about his parents and things get decidedly un-Victorian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs for this chapter:  
> Blow Us All Away from Hamilton  
> The Wassail Song  
> Do I Wanna Know by the Arctic Monkeys  
> God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

"Oh, you have to tell me everything about Paris," Katara had said when Zuko told her he'd be leaving at the beginning of December to visit his mother.  
Ursa, the Dowager Duchess of Caldera, had scandalized London society by leaving her husband and eloping with her lover. She'd been absent from the drawing rooms and ballrooms of Belgravia and Mayfair for at least a decade, and her name was only brought up in whispered gossip.  
"Mamma prefers to stay in Paris," Zuko explained. "Where women with bad reputations are celebrated rather than reviled. Father was beastly about the whole thing when she started an affair with a childhood sweetheart. She already gave him two legitimate children; she was well within her rights to take a lover, and it wasn't as if he wasn't bedding half the women in London and dueling their husbands."  
The late duke was a terrible one for dueling, and it only brought him an early death and worse reputation than his wife.  
Zuko stroked Katara's cheek when they parted. "I'll be back by Christmas," he said. "Be good and don't miss me too much."  
He then snaked his arms around her waist, pulled her close, and kissed her. Katara was feverish afterward. Katara was feverish afterward. In the nearly six months that they'd know each other, this was as much as Zuko ever asked of her. Each time he visited her dressing room, took her out to dinner, or brought her to the opera, he played the respectful suitor, only ever taking a kiss. He always left her disappointed and longing for more. A part of her was also relieved he hadn't yet asked for more. She might let Zuko down with her inexperience. 

Zuko invited her over to his family's London townhouse on Christmas Eve. Katara blushed at the request. They'd only ever met in public, after all. But she eagerly accepted. She rushed out into the frosty Christmas Eve afternoon with a tin of Gran-Gran's homemade gingerbread. 

"These just might be the best thing I've ever tasted," Zuko said after he took a bite. 

Katara placed the tin on the tea table in the drawing-room. "I'm glad you like them." The secret ingredients in Gran-Gran's gingerbread were a little bit of vanilla and a whole lot of love. 

"There's a present for you on the piano." 

On top of the grand piano sat a long white box tied with blue ribbons. The box read: Aunt Wu's: Paris. 

"You didn't bring something all the way back from Paris for me?" Katara's heart fluttered like a bird. She picked apart the blue bow on top, eager to see what was inside. 

"I had Azula's dressmaker on the Rue de la Paix make this up." Zuko sat down at the piano and began to play _God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen_. "The two of you have about the same measurements. If it doesn't fit, I can always have it altered for you." 

Inside the box was a pale blue silk evening gown. Threads of silver woven into the fabric shimmered in the firelight. 

She picked up the gown and held it to her chest as she spun around. "Oh, Zuko, it's gorgeous, but I don't think I'll ever be able to wear it." The gown was even too fancy to wear when Zuko took her out to dinner at Simpson's or to the opera. A ball at Buckingham Palace was the only appropriate place to wear it. To think, all she brought for him was the tin of gingerbread. 

"You could wear it tonight. Go upstairs to Azula's room and try it on. See if it fits you." 

The gown's bodice needed to be let out a bit, and the skirt needed to be shortened. Katara almost tripped over the hem when she walked back downstairs to the drawing-room.   
Zuko was still at the piano, this time playing _Here we come a-wassailing._  
"We are not daily beggars that beg from door to door," Katara sang along. "But we are neighbors' children whom you have seen before. Love and joy come to you, and to you, our wassail, too. And God bless you and send you a Happy New Year. And God bless you and send you a Happy New Year." 

Zuko stopped playing and looked her over. "My, my, my. I chose that dress well."   
"Tell me about Paris." Katara sat down on his knee. "What did you and the Duchess talk about?" 

"Well, I told Mamma all about Azula's first season in London and about how she became engaged to the first society boor to ask her. Azula's fiance, Chan Jian, is precisely the type of rich, good-looking idiot I always imagined her marrying. I gave my blessing because I'm just as eager to get rid of her as she is to be gotten rid of." 

"She's your sister. You shouldn't say such things about her."   
Even at their worst moments, Katara could never imagine wanting to get rid of Sokka.   
"We can't all have siblings as nice as your brother, my sweet." He kissed the top of her head. "Azula hasn't forgiven Mamma for not coming to London to help her come out into society. Mamma said that she didn't want to draw attention away from Azula, which was probably the right call. Azula never could bear to have anyone focus on someone other than her. I think part of the reason she accepted Jian's proposal is that Mamma would notice her. If Mamma wouldn't come for Azula's first season, she would at least come for her wedding." 

As ghastly as Zuko made Azula sound, Katara couldn't help but feel sorry for her. Azula had everything except what she really needed: a loving and stable family.   
Zuko rubbed his temples. "At least good thing came of this mess. Azula is the Jians' problem this year. Christmas Day will just be Uncle, me, his plum pudding tea, and a couple of games of Pai Sho. But enough about my mess of a family, what are your plans for tomorrow?" 

"Sokka, Gran-Gran, and I will be having some of our friends from Ember Island over. Gran-Gran had to store up a dozen bottles of gin in preparation."   
"Sounds like fun." He encircled her waist with his arms. 

"I better go. Sokka will be wondering where I am." She playfully pushed him away.   
Zuko nuzzled her hair. "So soon?" He peppered her neck with kisses.   
Katara gasped. What right had he to make her feel like she was coming down with a fever and would die?   
"I'll have to change out of this dress first. Would you mind helping me with the hooks?" 

"You'll have to toss out this rug," Katara said, retying the laces on her chemise.   
Tiny spots of blood stained the bearskin rug by the fireplace where they'd lain together. Katara felt a throbbing soreness between her legs. The act had hurt at first but not any worse than Suki, and Ty Lee said it would. They said it was something you had to get used to before you could thoroughly enjoy it. 

Zuko brought over two glasses of mulled wine from the bar. His shirt was still untucked from his trousers. "I could use the stains the scare people," he said. "Like, if Chan Jian ever annoys me, I could always threaten him by saying I stabbed a man there." He sat down on the bearskin rug next to Katara and gave her a glass of mulled wine.   
"That'll make sure he treats Azula well."   
Curiosity drove Katara to touch his scar. She expected it to feel rough and raw, but instead, it was smooth and silky to the touch. Zuko leaned back, like a dog consenting to be petted. 

"I guess you're curious about how I got it."   
"Yes." Katara rested her head on his shoulder. "I heard you got it in a duel." 

"That's correct. It was during my first year at Oxford. One of my father's friends insulted my mother. He said things I couldn't let slide, so I challenged him to meet me at dawn on Hampstead Heathe. But when I got there, it wasn't the man I was expecting.  _ You need to be taught a lesson,  _ my father said,  _ and pain will be your teacher.  _ He left a bullet in my eye as a reminder." 

Katara wiped the tears that were beginning to well-up in Zuko's eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays to all my dear readers.


	5. We Never Would Have Been Happy Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko comes to Mai with a big decision he's made and to get some closure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs for this chapter:  
> Young, Dumb, and Broke by Khalid  
> Hot and Cold by Katy Perry  
> Marry You by Bruno Mars  
> Someone Like You by Adele

Zuko visited Mai at her and Kei Lo's new home in Belgrave Square when they returned from their honeymoon. The elegant white townhouse received extensive redecoration during the couple's engagement. Zuko nodded with approval at the William Morris wallpaper, hangings, and upholstery inspired by medieval tapestries. The stained glass windows copied from gothic cathedrals, the Byzantine influenced tiles and mosaics, and the dark, wood-paneled walls and plaster and beam ceilings reminiscent of Tudor manor houses. Mai always had impeccable taste.  
The drawing-room was done up in faded greens and blues and rusty reds and oranges. Lolling in a tapestried armchair and wearing a deep red tea gown (1), Mai looked like a figure from a Waterhouse painting of some ennui-afflicted literary heroine brooding away in her bower (2). She raised an eyebrow, regarded him for a moment, and then rose to greet him. "Good evening, Zuko," she said. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"   
Under her gaze, Zuko nearly faltered. He pulled at his starched collar with his left hand. "I brought a house-warming present."   
A cardboard box from Fortnum and Mason was nestled under Zuko's right arm. He placed it on a tea table and opened the lid. The half-dozen little fruit tarts, sprinkled with candied rose petals, inside, thankfully, remained un-crushed during his omnibus journey from Piccadilly. "If I remember correctly, these are your favorite?"   
Zuko's family cook often made similar tarts when Mai came to visit. 

Mai raised her eyebrow again. "Come right out with it."   
"Come right out with what?" Zuko gazed down at his feet.   
"Whatever bad news you've come with."   
_Damn, Mai's too sharp for me_. "What makes you think...?"   
"I know you, you idiot. You're never sweeter than when you have bad news, or when you've done something wrong." 

Zuko blushed at all the times he'd brought Mai the same fruit tarts sprinkled with rose petals or some other presents when she'd found out about other ladies he was courting. Agni, he'd really been an ass to her.   
"It's not bad news, exactly." Zuko stared down at his shoes. "But rather good news, in a way... I'm going to ask Katara to marry me."   
Mai's jaw dropped. He knew what she was thinking: _Is he mad? Marrying a music hall girl?_  
Zuko took her hand. "Don't look at me like that, please. Marrying a singer is hardly the most disreputable thing someone from my family has ever done. I know I've only known Katara for a year, but I feel like since the moment I first saw her, I could tell she'd be my duchess." 

Asking Katara to marry him was an impulsive decision but perhaps the right one. Zuko felt more for her than he'd ever felt for any other woman, even Mai, but he wouldn't tell Mai that. 

Mai withdrew her hand from him. With a swish of her skirt, she went and sat down on the sofa. She unclipped a delicate silver case from a bracelet she wore around her wrist, took out a cigarette, and lit it.   
Zuko sat down beside her. "Come on, tell me what you think. I can take it. Tell me I'm a damned lunatic if that's how you feel."   
"You haven't made many good decisions in your life, Zuko," Mai said. She blew a ring of smoke in his direction. "But this is one of them." 

Zuko breathed a sigh of relief and lit himself a cigarette.   
Mai flicked some of her ashes into a silver tray on the table. "A year ago, you were with women the same way I am with ballgowns: five new ones at the start of each season. If Katara can hold your attention for this long, she really is someone special."   
"That she is." Zuko smiled. 

He'd expected Mai to be appalled by the news. Some little urchin from Shoreditch would be Duchess of Caldera when she'd been bred for the position. This was a slap in the face.   
"I've only ever wanted you to be happy." Mai put out her cigarette, rose from the sofa, and went to a bar cart by the window. "Looking back, we never would have been happy together." She returned with two glasses of sherry and handed one to Zuko. "We kept trying to make things work, but they never seemed to stick. I'm fond of Kei, and he's devoted to me like an old hound. We're hardly Lancelot and Guinevere, but I think we'll make a success of things. I was never one to see the point of a grand romance, but I can be glad that you've had one. Here's hoping you and Katara get a better ending than Lancelot and Guinevere." 

She finished her speech by downing her sherry in one sip.   
Zuko took her hand and kissed it. "Bless you, Mai." Mai smiled, and her face lit up. She was stunning when she smiled.   
He'd always have a special place in his heart for her, as someone he'd shared his formative years with, and regret her, as someone he'd done wrong. If she could forgive and move on, then he could do the same. 

Zuko finished his sherry and put out his cigarette, then got up to leave. A footman handed him his hat and cane. "Enjoy the tarts," Zuko said as he stood in the doorway. "I'll make sure to invite you to the wedding."   
Mai raised her eyebrow for a third time. "I'll keep an eye out for the invitation." Like the Lady of Shalott with her loom and her mirror, she returned to her shadows. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Historical costuming nerd tidbit: I wanted to put Mai in a tea-gown at some point because tea-gowns from this period look a lot like what Mai wears in the series.
> 
> 2\. William Waterhouse was a pre-Raphaelite painter. This is both a reference to Mai sitting in her medieval-inspired house and to the fact that Waterhouse painted a lot of moody, bored-looking women.


	6. Ta Ra Ra Boom De Ay!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katara has a close-call and contemplates an important choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs for this chapter:  
> Ta Ra Ra Boom De Ay!  
> Gone, Gone, Gone by Philip Philips  
> Say Yes by Snow Patrol  
> O Soave Fanciulla from La Boheme

Katara poured herself a glass of water from the carafe on her dressing table. The entire room had gone blurry and started to spin. Her breath came in short gasps, and her heart threatened to shatter her ribs.  
Deep breaths. You'll only make yourself sicker if you get worked up.  
The perennial tickle in the back of Katara's throat returned. She pulled out her handkerchief and coughed into it.  
There was a knock at the door. "Miss Katara," Pipsqueak, one of the stagehands, said. "His Grace would like to see you."  
"Send him in, please," Katara replied. _Strange. He usually doesn't come to see me until after the show._ She took a throat lozenge out of her handbag and put it in her mouth, hoping it would help her cough.  
Zuko's evening cloak flared out behind him as he strode into the dressing room. He removed his top hat and offered Katara the bouquet of fire lilies he brought with him. "Good evening," he said.   
Katara accepted the bouquet. "Thank you." She stood on the tips of her toes to kiss him. Even if she was with him for the rest of her life, the way his mustache tickled her upper lip would still make her giggle like a schoolgirl.

"Are you feeling alright, Katara?"   
"Yes. Why are you asking?"   
Zuko furrowed his brow. "You're looking flushed?"   
"It's nothing. It's just a little hot in here, that's all." Katara dodged him as he attempted to feel her forehead and sat down on the stool at her dressing table. She took a hearty sip of water. 

Zuko's arms encircled her waist. The royal purple taffeta of her bodice _shhh_ -ed at his touch. "Did you lace yourself in too tight?" He kissed her cheek. "I don't know why you women put up with all your corsets and bustles." 

Katara put a hand on his shoulder. "That's because you men are such babies when it comes to clothes. You can't stand a little discomfort." 

She opened up a jar of white greasepaint and dabbed some onto her forehead. After rubbing the thick, sticky makeup into her skin, her face looked like a mask. Her cheeks no longer looked flushed. 

"I wasn't expecting you to come this early." Katara reached for the rouge pot. She dipped her finger in and drew a stripe across her left shoulder.   
"I needed to see you." Zuko reached into the pocket of his evening cloak. "And I couldn't wait until after the performance." He pulled out a small, black velvet box. The lid flipped open, and inside was pink opal set in a rose-gold ring. 

Katara gasped. Her heart fluttered, and the room spun again. She took another sip of water. _Is this what I think it is?_

Zuko got down on one knee. "Katara, will you make me the luckiest, the happiest, and the most enviable man in the world and become my wife and duchess?" 

Katara just blinked at him. All of her birthdays and Christmases had come at once. It was too good to be true. When she started seeing Zuko, the prospect of him eventually leaving her and marrying someone more socially acceptable loomed in the distance like a giant storm cloud. Never in her wildest dreams did she think he would want to make her his wife. Dukes didn't marry musical hall girls. 

"What would your family think?" she said. His Uncle Iroh liked her, but would he accept her as a niece? From what Zuko'd told her about his sister, Azula, she'd turn up her nose and turn her away. "What would all your friends think? What would the world think? I'm not exactly someone of your station." _Like your former sweetheart, Mai._

Zuko put the ring on her finger. "Hang them all and send them to the devil. If we were all born into the station we deserved, you'd be a princess." 

But Katara hadn't been born a princess.   
"This whole thing could cause a terrible scandal. Will you be able to handle that?"   
"Sweetheart." Zuko stroked her cheek. "My mother ran off to Paris with her lover, my father died in a duel, and my uncle is in trade of all things. What's one more scandal? To paraphrase something that Mai said, this is one of the few good decisions I've made in my life."   
Katara raised an eyebrow. "You talked about this with Mai?"   
Mai was already married, happily from what Katara had heard, but hearing about Zuko's former flame made her eyes take on a shade of green. She hid this greenness behind the gauzy white veil of the hat she pinned to her hairdo. 

"The air between us needed clearing, so I went to see her," Zuko said. "This conversation was a long time coming, and I'm glad it's finally over with. I told her that I was planning on proposing to you, and she took it better than I thought she would. She's one of our allies, and trust me, you'd rather have her for you than against you." 

If Mai could bring herself to support her old fiance's possible new engagement, that said a lot about her character.   
There was a knock at the door. "You're on in five minutes, Miss Katara," Pipsqueak shouted from the hallway.   
"I'll be out in a minute." Katara adjusted her veil and rose from her stool.   
Bless Pipsqueak for cutting this conversation short before Katara had to make a tough decision. If she said no, she'd lose the man she loved, but it might ruin his life if she said yes.   
Zuko took her hand and kissed it. "I'll see you after the show. Can I expect an answer by then?"   
"Let's think this over more, Zuko." Katara stroked his cheek. " Marriage is a big decision and it isn't wise to rush into it." 

She kissed him, then rushed out the door so she wouldn't miss her cue. 

Katara made her entrance on stage in a carriage pulled by a team of chorus girls, headed by Suki, dressed as horses and singing " _Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay_." 

The audience cheered when Katara rose from the carriage and blew them double kisses. In the broiling stage lights, her head swam, and her vision was blurry. She could scarcely make out Zuko sitting in his usual box seat. 

After taking a few deep breaths, Katara opened her mouth to sing: 

" _A smart and stylish girl, you see—Belle of good society. Not too strict but rather free, yet as right as right can be."_

A few more deep breaths, and the theater stopped spinning around her.  _ What is wrong with me? Did I not eat enough today? Yes, that's it. All I ate today was a slice of pork pie before I came to the theater.  _

Now she could see Zuko returning her blown kisses with some of her own. 

" _ Never forward, never bold."  _ Katara singled him out with a wink.  _ "Not too hot and not too cold but the very thing I'm told, that in your arms you'd like to hold."  _

The audience cheered the charming scene: the pretty music hall _chanteuse_ singing to her handsome ducal lover. They'd be even more charmed if they knew Zuko had proposed marriage to her. Everyone loves a Cinderella story. If Lola Montez could become a countess, and Nell Gywn's son could become an earl, why couldn't Katara be a duchess? But Lola Montez abandoned her King Ludwig when their affair became too much of a scandal, and Nell Gywn died of syphilis. Neither of them lived past forty. Cinderella stories rarely end happily. 

The tickle returned to Katara's throat. She coughed into her elbow before continuing with the song. " _ I'm not extravagantly shy and when a nice young man is nigh, for his heart I have a try and faint away with tearful cry."  _ Her voice came out like a frog's croak. 

The stage lights twinkled around her like stars. Like a balloon, her head floated off into the audience. " _ When the good young man in haste, will support me round the waist, I don't come to while thus embraced till of my lips he steals a taste."  _

The theater started spinning again. As light as paper, Katara floated away. 

"Katara..." Katara's eyes flickered open. "...Katara."   
She was laying on a settee in her dressing room. Zuko held a bottle of smelling salts to her nose while Suki loosened her corset. Katara gasped and took in as much air as she could.   
"You scared us, sweetheart," Zuko said. His arm supported Katara's back.   
"I'm alright," Katara replied. "It's just that it's so bloody hot in here." 

Sokka burst through the door, holding a glass of barley water from the concession stand. "How is she?"   
"Fine, Sokka." 

"You, Missy, are taking it easy tomorrow." Sokka gave Katara the barley water and plopped down on the settee next to her. Zuko and Suki backed away so Katara could have more air.   
Katara rested her head on her brother's shoulder. "Fair enough. A few cups of Gran-Gran's ginger tea should set me to rights." 


	7. That's The Only Time I'll Ever Speak to That Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azula is being difficult but you can't really blame her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs for this chapter:  
> Primadonna by Marina  
> Cleopatra by The Lumineers  
> If I Die Young by The Band Perry  
> Runways by All Time Low

"Absolutely not!" Azula shouted. She threw a teacup, and it shattered on the carpet. "There's no way in Hell!" 

Zuko stepped back so the spilled tea would not stain his trousers. "Be reasonable for once in your life, Azula..." 

Perhaps it was rude of Zuko to tell Azula that Katara would be coming with him to the wedding only a few hours before the said wedding? But in Zuko's defense, he had been right that Azula would make an ugly scene about Katara being there. He had hoped to sneak Katara in, and by the time Azula noticed, it would be too late, and Azula would have to be civil to her. Mamma let it slip that Zuko was bringing Katara to the wedding while helping Azula get ready, and that's how this whole mess started. 

Azula stamped on the train of her bridal gown. "How dare you tell me to be reasonable, especially after you pulled _this_. I won't have that whore at my wedding!" 

"Young lady," Mamma said. She rose from where she was seated on Azula's bed. "Where did you learn such language?" 

"From hearing it used about you, of course." 

Mamma lowered her head and sat back down on the bed. 

Zuko glared at Azula. How could she say something like that when Mamma exposed herself to more gossip and slander by returning to England just to attend Azula's wedding? But then again, Azula never considered anyone's feelings but her own. 

"Katara is coming," Zuko said in his best _I'm your older brother, and you will do what I say_ voice. "And you will be polite to her." 

"I don't have to take orders from you, especially after today. When the wedding's over, I'll no longer be your problem." Azula spread the yards of ivory duchess silk and cream-colored Brussels lace that made up her wedding dress's skirt and train over the stool at the dressing table. 

"Good riddance!" 

Zuko wished Chan Jian good luck with his shrew of sister. 

Mamma reached over and took Zuko's hand. "I'm looking forward to meeting Katara," she said. 

Katara and Mamma had a shared love of performance in common. If Mamma had not been a well-born lady, then she might have become an actress. Mamma and Father met during a home theatrical of _Love Amongst the Dragons._ She had played the Dragon Empress opposite her current beau at the time, Ikem Noren, the man she later ran off to Paris with, as the Dragon Emperor. Father set eyes on the young beauty and decided that she had to become his wife. Ikem Noren was shipped up to a government post in some Agni-forsaken corner of the empire, and the rest was history. Mamma never performed in another home theatrical again. Father forbid it. 

"I think the two of you will get along famously." Zuko stroked his mother's fingers with his thumb. 

"Of course," Azula rolled her eyes. "You always take _his_ side." 

"That's because she loves me more." Zuko flashed Azula a wicked grin. 

Azula glared at him in return. She was always bitter that Mamma never gave her enough attention for her liking. Mamma let Azula have her way, of course, and continuously gave her whatever toys, sweets, and dresses from Paris she wanted because Mamma was afraid of Azula's temper and felt guilty that they weren't close. A combination of fear and pity usually made people defer to Azula, but deference wasn't the same as affection. 

Mamma rose again from Azula's bed. She joined Azula by the dressing table. The printed fawn-colored muslin of her skirt blended with Azula's ivory silk and creamy lace. "I love you both," she said. "In my own way." She kissed Azula's hair. Azula rolled her eyes again.   
Perhaps that was true, but Mamma was always closer to Zuko than Azula due to similar tastes and temperaments. They were both aesthetes: sensitive, impulsive, flighty, and drawn to the arts. Some of the fondest memories Zuko had from his childhood involved going to the theater and the opera with Mamma, visiting picture galleries with her, and the two of them reading aloud poetry to each other. Azula, who favored Father, never had any interest in such activities. With her love of riding, shooting, and hunting, and her autocratic personality, Azula was the son Father always wanted.   
Mamma smoothed the fringe framing Azula's forehead with her fingers so that it looked neat and symmetrical. "You always had such beautiful hair," she said.   
Azula beamed at her reflection. Gazing at her own loveliness was always a distraction when something upset her. Mamma put the crown of orange blossoms in place among Azula's coiffure. The billowing tulle veil enveloped Azula's slight, girlish figure. 

"Fine," Azula sighed. "Zuko's little _amoureuse_ can come to the wedding but don't expect me to address her." 

Zuko scoffed. Even when Azula was conceding defeat, she had to be spiteful and petulant. "Well, Dear Sister, that won't be much of a loss." 

The nave of Saint Paul's Church in Knightsbridge looked like it had been hit by a floral blizzard. Countless swags and garlands of orange blossoms, myrtle sprigs, and lilies-of-the-valley covered all the way up to its vaulted ceiling. With its white-washed walls, timber beams, and gothic windows, a romantic approximation of a medieval great hall, Saint Paul's made a picturesque setting for the society wedding of the year. 

As the bride's closest male relative, Zuko had the dubious honor of giving Azula away in place of their late father. He led her down the aisle to the tune of Mendelssohn's wedding march. 

Chan stood at the altar, looking very much like the cat that ate the cream, and why shouldn't he? He gained a bride who had everything a woman should have, namely beauty, wealth, and breading. Of course, Azula was all sweetness during Chan's courtship of her, but the poor chap had no idea what he was in for once the ring was on Azula's finger. The hand today, the fist tomorrow.   
Looking every bit as pleased with themselves as the groom were two nearly identical old ladies named Lo and Li, a pair of well-connected and inscrutably respectable spinster sisters who'd taken the burden of chaperoning Azula during her London season. They were the ones who introduced Azula and Chan and facilitated their courtship, so this wedding was every bit their triumph as it was Azula's. 

It was Katara, looking as sweet as could be in a blue and white striped suit, who chatted with Mamma as if they'd known each other for years. Who had invited Katara to sit in the pew in them? Mamma or Uncle? Whichever of them did it, Zuko was grateful to them for their kindness. 

Zuko winked at Katara as he passed. Katara smiled at him, then raised a delicate lace handkerchief to her mouth and coughed. Poor lamb. She still had that blasted tickle in her throat.   
When the wedding march played out its final notes, Zuko deposited Azula at the altar. He returned to the family pew. Uncle gave him a knowing smile and rose from his seat to allow Zuko to pass by and sit next to Katara.  
Katara took his hand squeezed it. "Lady Azula is a vision," she said. "She looks like a princess from a fairytale."  
"You'd look better in her place," Zuko replied.  
Katara giggled. "Marrying Chan Jian?"  
"You know what I mean."  
Watching Azula and Chan stand at the altar, Zuko couldn't help but wish it was him and Katara. She hadn't yet agreed to his proposal, and whenever he pressed her for an answer, she kept saying that she couldn't make a decision until her father's ship returned from China. The devil knew when that would be.  
Katara again held her handkerchief to her mouth and coughed.  
Zuko gave her tiny, gloved hand a squeeze. "Are you alright, sweetheart?" He said.  
"It's the damp weather we've been having." Katara's voice was muffled the handkerchief. "It makes my cough act up again."  
For the past week or so, London had been troubled by intermittent thunderstorms. But that morning was perfectly sunny and clear. Azula wouldn't have stood for anything less on her wedding day.

The ceremony passed by in a blur. Katara's hand squeezing his own was the only thing that kept Zuko from yawning. Both of them tittered a bit when Azula vowed to "love, honor, and obey" Chan.  
"I'll believe that when I see it," Zuko said. He wasn't a particularly religious man but he said a few prayers for Agni to have mercy on his new brother-in-law's soul.  
Wagner's _Bridal Chorus_ played as the newly minted Mr. and Mrs. Chan Jian processed out of the church. 

"There's Azula," Mamma said to Katara as they stood on the church steps. "Allow me to introduce you."   
Azula had stopped to chat with a group of friends before getting into her carriage.   
Katara took Mamma's arm. "I'd be honored, Your Grace."   
This was the moment of truth. Would Azula do the correct thing and be civil to her future sister-in-law? Of course not. This was Azula they were talking about.   
Azula looked up a saw Mamma and Katara approach. With a swish and a rustle of her skirts, she turned her back to them. She accepted her husband's offered hand and climbed into the carriage.   
Zuko gasped and stood there frozen for a moment. Before he could confront her about her rudeness, the carriage pulled away.   
Katara blushed and lowered her eyes. "Maybe she didn't see us?" she said. "And there are a lot of people who'd like to speak with her. She couldn't possibly get to all of them, or she'd be standing here all day."   
How like Katara to assume everyone acts from the purest of motives. "You are too good for all of us." Zuko kissed her forehead.   
Uncle put a hand on Katara's shoulder. "Don't worry, My dear," he said. "I'll speak to her."   
This was worth a shot. If anyone could bring out the better angels of Azula's nature, it was Uncle. Hopefully, Uncle would get Azula to behave like a decent human being for once in her life. 

Uncle hosted the wedding breakfast at the Jasmine Dragon. Like the nave of Saint Paul's, the tea shop bloomed with orange blossoms, myrtle, and lily-of-the-valley. Katara complained that all the perfume made her dizzy.  
Zuko brought over a chair for her. "Can I get you anything?" he said.   
"Something to eat and drink would be lovely?" Katara replied. She uncorked her bottle of smelling salts and took a sniff.   
"If my lady wishes." Zuko kissed her hand. "I'll be back in a moment.   
Zuko got Katara a glass of lemonade and a plate of cheese omelet and glazed ham from the refreshment table. The protein would help get her strength back. He also got some chicken salad sandwiches and jelly biscuits for himself.   
On his way back over to Katara, Zuko nearly bumped into one of the groomsmen. He was tempted to shout "watch where you're going, you oaf" but decided against making a public scene. Over his shoulder, he saw Uncle and Azula approach where Katara was sitting. Uncle had a beneficent grin on his face while Azula looked like she'd been sucking on a lemon. She gave the bare minimum of a curtsey and said, "the florist did a great job on the flower arrangements, didn't they?" 

Katara replied with an awkward smile. "Yes they did," she said.   
Uncle chuckled and patted Azula on the back. Azula furrowed her brow, scrunched up her nose, and turned away.   
"That's the only time I'll ever speak to that woman." 

Zuko laughed. Typical Azula. Would it kill her to be a graceful loser?  
"I think that went pretty well," he said, putting an arm around Katara's shoulder. 

After Chan and Azula cut into their two-tiered lemon and elderflower wedding cake enrobed in vanilla buttercream, the dancing began. The orchestra struck up a waltz, and Uncle asked Katara to stand up with him.   
"I'm going to dance with your girl," he said, slapping Zuko's arm. "And there's nothing you can do about it, you young puppy."   
Zuko stared down at his shoes. Everyone in the room must have heard him be called a young puppy and were inwardly laughing at him. Why did Uncle have to be one of those people who show affection through teasing and public humiliation?   
And Uncle swept Katara off. At his age and his weight, he was surprisingly light on his feet. 

"Poor Katara looks flushed and breathless," said Mamma, who was finishing off a cup of strawberries and cream. She had refused cake, citing concerns about her figure, which were ridiculous since she was still as slender as a young girl. 

Katara's face was as pink as cooked salmon, and her eyes looked a bit glazed over. Uncle hadn't noticed this and continued to spin her around.   
"Uncle should go easier on her," Zuko said.   
With a loud, painful-sounding cough, Katara broke away from Uncle. Zuko rushed over to see if she was alright.   
"Zuko, Zuko," she whimpered. Her frame went limp in his arms.   
This was the second time Katara had fainted. The stubborn girl kept insisting that she only had a little tickle in her throat, but something more serious was going on here.   
"Bring her to my house," Uncle said. "I'll send for a doctor." 

The doctor listened to Katara's breathing, checked her pulse and temperature, examined her throat, and took some of her blood.  
"Flushed and feverish," the doctor said, "Labored and painful breathing, weak and fast pulse, and swollen, inflamed throat... just what I thought. All the signs point to tuberculosis but we can't be completely sure until after the blood test."

"How serious is it?' Zuko asked. He held the weak and exhausted Katara's hand, which lolled over the bedside in Uncle's guest room. She looked up at the doctor with pleading eyes as if to say, "Please don't tell me I'm going to die." Tuberculosis is all too often a death sentence and a slow, painful one.   
The doctor put his instruments back into a large black leather bag. "From the looks of things, she's not too far along for us to hope for a recovery. I suggest taking her abroad, someplace with a mild climate, preferably on the coast. The sea air is particularly healthful."  
"My family owns a villa on the Bay of Naples," Zuko said. He kissed Katara's hand. "You'll like Naples, Katara. The weather is pleasant, the people are friendly, and the food is delicious... in other words, it's the exact opposite of England." 

"Sounds lovely," Katara replied. Her voice was hoarse and weak.   
The doctor put on his coat, tipped his hat, and bid good day to Katara and Zuko with a "Your Grace, Miss." 

Zuko found a volume of Keats's poems and read aloud to Katara as she started to nod off. 

_"My spirit is too weak,"_ he read. _"Mortality weighs heavily on me like unwilling sleep. And each imagined pinnacle and steep of god-like hardship tells me I must die, like a sick eagle looking at the sky."_

Zuko quickly closed the book. Perhaps Keats wasn't the best thing to read to a girl who was seriously ill. 

Katara's hand brushed against Zuko's arm. "Zuko," she said. 

"Yes, Sweetheart?" 

"I'll marry you but I want to get better first." 

Zuko's heart pounded. He couldn't believe his ears. Did she finally say _yes?_

 _"_ Then get better soon." He bent over and kissed her. 

A maid knocked on the door and brought in a bouquet and a plate of food. The bouquet contained orange blossoms, myrtles, and lilies-of-the-valley from the decorative floral arrangements at the Jasmine Dragon. On the dish were cream cheese and walnut finger sandwiches and blueberry muffins. 

A tiny notecard tucked among the flowers was signed "Azula Jian." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem that Zuko reads is called "On Seeing the Elgin Marbles" and was written while John Keats himself was dying from Tuberculosis. I imagine that Zuko knows this context (and that it's a pretty depressing poem) and that's why he stops reading to Katara.


End file.
